


can't blame you for being confused

by asbestosgang



Category: Red Letter Media, RedLetterMedia RPF, redlettermedia
Genre: (but like a more casual version), Bar Room Brawl, Beer, Date Night, First Dates, Fluff, How Do I Tag, I Don't Even Know, M/M, Mike is a little bit dumb, Pining, Violence, but not a lot of fluff, but not gore, guys being dudes, hell yeah beer tag, idiot plot, just a lil story, not sexy at all
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-03
Updated: 2020-07-03
Packaged: 2021-03-04 17:28:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,725
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25050124
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/asbestosgang/pseuds/asbestosgang
Summary: Did Jay just invite him on a date? Who knows? Mike certainly doesn't.
Relationships: Mike Stoklasa/Jay Bauman, Mike/Jay
Comments: 4
Kudos: 34





	can't blame you for being confused

Mike was no stranger to romance. On the contrary, he was quite the Casanova back when he was young, sexy, and on a shit ton of drugs. Now, it wasn’t as easy. He’d grown mean and tired and a little squishy. But he kept all the charisma he’d had as a Manic Youth—though he used it less often now—and he could still sweep a lady off her feet when he wanted to. In short, he knew what he was doing. 

At least, he thought he did. 

“Hey. Are you listening to me?” Jay snapped. Mike blinked, turning his attention to his coworker.

“What?” he asked. Jay huffed, rolling his eyes.

“I was asking if you wanted to go out with me tonight.”

Mike froze, startled, his face flushing. Jay’s cheeks were dusted a pale red, and though his voice was even, measured, there was a tension running underneath it, probably because he didn’t want the invitation to be misinterpreted—something Mike was already doing as his temperature spiked and his hands got a little sweaty. After all, that was certainly a weird way to phrase it. 

“Um, yeah. Sure. That’s—sure,” He stammered, unable to look directly at him. Jay seemed satisfied with that answer, leaning back against his chair. 

“I bought tickets to Dumb Action Movie 13 at seven. Figured we could get something to eat at the bar after.”

There was no other way to look at it, this was very obviously dinner and a movie. (A movie and dinner?) It sounded like a date, didn’t it? 

No, not necessarily. They went to see tons of movies together—but Jay didn’t usually pay for them both, and they’d never gotten dinner after. And the way Jay had put it—no way. Scratch that. It wasn’t possible. Mike was overthinking. This was just a friendly get together between friends. Right?

“Sounds...good,” Mike managed, struggling against the overload of frantic thoughts flooding through his brain, desperately trying to interpret what meager information he’d been given. 

“Good,” Jay coughed. “I figured you didn’t have any plans anyways.”

Mike narrowed his eyes, focusing his attention on Jay’s slight, if only to ignore the chaos in his head. It was a fair assumption, but still insulting. 

“Why?”

“Because you never do anything. You just hang out at work and drink, then go home and drink, or go out to drink with me.”

“That’s—“ correct. It was correct. Mike, as much as he didn’t want to admit it, did not have any other friends, which meant his schedule was always astonishingly empty. “What’s wrong with that?”

“Nothing!” Jay smiled sincerely. “It means I can ask you to do anything and you’ll do it, ‘cause you’ve got nothing else planned.”

He winked, and Mike hated that it made him feel something, and also that Jay was right. 

“Not like you’ve got much on your plate, either,” he fired back. Jay paused, thinking, before nodding in reluctant agreement. 

“I guess that’s what happens when you work at a dead-end job in a dead industry and you’ve got exactly one other coworker,” he shrugged. His tone was light, like he didn’t really mind it, even though their situation was undoubtedly abysmal when you stepped back to look at it. But Mike never did, instead focused on the man next to him—not in a weird way. It just happened to be that Jay was the nicest thing around to look at.

And he looked  _ really  _ good. 

Fine, fine, maybe Mike had a very tiny, minuscule, microscopic crush on Jay. 

Or maybe he was head over heels for him.

It didn’t matter either way, because after more than two seconds of rational thought Mike understood that there was no way this was a date or anything close to it, and so any feelings of infatuation or the like, no matter how strong, were irrelevant and unnecessary. 

Still, that annoyingly optimistic part of him that he could never quite crush nagged at him anyways, filling his chest with a warmth and lightness that he wasn’t used to. It made his heart beat a little faster, his face turn a little red if he thought about it too long. Ugh. It almost felt like hope. Mike coughed, as if to clear it out (it didn’t work).

“Um. I haven’t seen Dumb Action Movie 12, though.”

“I’m sure you don’t have to. The plot isn’t exactly complex,” Jay laughed. True. But if that was the case, then why would Jay willingly go to see a movie like that? Unless his intention wasn’t really to watch it. He found himself glancing at Jay’s lips—come on! This was getting ridiculous. Mike shut that train of thought down, his cheeks flushing with shame. Jay was his best-slash-only friend and coworker, and they’d had a very close (and very platonic) relationship for many years. It was stupid of him to think that any of that would change tonight. He was overreacting. All Jay did was ask him to hang out with him. As a friend. Which they did all the time.

“I’m gonna go home and change out of my work clothes first. Pick me up at six-thirty?” Jay asked. Mike blinked, caught off guard again. Jay didn’t usually ask for rides, even when he was way too wasted to drive (during such occasions Mike would just manhandle him into an Uber or drive him home himself). This was, therefore, suspiciously uncharacteristic of him. Mike narrowed his eyes, using his excellent, unrivaled deductive reasoning abilities to discern whatever the fuck Jay was up to. 

He came up empty, and shrugged. 

“Sure.”

“Thanks,” Jay smiled, and Mike smiled back because Jay’s smiles were always weirdly contagious. He then spent their ten minutes left on the clock trying to mentally visualize all of the shirts he owned and pick the one that would make him look the least sloppy—although that didn’t really matter, because this wasn’t a date. 

As soon as it hit five, Jay hopped out of his chair, grabbing his wallet from the top of the desk and slipping it into his pocket as he left.

“See you soon,” he waved, winking again. He needed to stop doing that, or Mike was going to...feel things. ‘Things’ predominantly being ‘nervous’. But why would he feel nervous around his very good friend, with whom he was going to see a movie and then get dinner with after? They were just two guys being dudes, hanging out. The only reason he was nervous was because he’d overanalyzed how Jay had phrased the invitation—but that was irrational of him, and he really shouldn’t have given it a second thought because there was nothing there to analyze in the first place, so why be nervous at all?

Mike nearly got into three accidents on the five minute drive to his house. It hardly fazed him as he scrambled through the front door, mind preoccupied. 

First priority—take a shower. Date or not (this was not a date), he didn’t want to smell bad. Jay always smelled nice. Mike sometimes wanted to ask what deodorant he used, but he didn’t know if that would be weird, so he never did. After spending a record amount of time in the shower, he then spent a record amount of time standing in front of his closet in his boxers trying to figure out what to wear. Eventually he settled on a plaid button-up and newish jeans, having made a monumental effort just to pick a halfway decent outfit. He even popped a piece of mint gum in his mouth, for reasons that were entirely platonic—he didn’t want Jay to be grossed out by his breath while they were talking, that’s all. This was normal behavior when preparing for a normal outing between friends. Right?

He was going crazy. 

At six-twenty, Mike hopped back into his car, starting the drive to Jay’s house. It was about fifteen minutes away, but he’d prefer to be fashionably late than creepily early. He pulled into Jay’s driveway and honked the horn, trying to keep himself calm. After a minute that felt like an hour (Mike checked his hair in the mirror about twelve times), Jay came out the front door, wearing a t-shirt with a faded reference to some obscure horror movie on it (Mike vaguely remembered him talking about it one time), old jeans bordering on worn out, and a ratty hoodie. 

He was the most beautiful thing Mike had ever seen.

In a casual, friendly, platonic way. 

“Hey,” he waved, pretending he hadn’t just been awestruck. Jay grinned. 

“You’re early.”

Mike panicked, but he kept his voice even. 

“You said six-thirty, didn’t you?”

“Yeah, but it’s only six-forty. I assumed you’d show up at seven.”

“I’m never late,” Mike huffed in mock offense. Jay rolled his eyes, hopping into the passenger side of the car.

“What’s with the gum?” 

Mike panicked again, though he didn’t know why. It was a normal question from his normal friend about a normal thing he was doing. 

“...there was garlic in my dinner.”

He spat it out into a napkin which he then stuffed into the cup holder. Jay grimaced.

“Who cares? You planning on making out with someone tonight?” He asked jokingly, as Mike pulled out of the driveway and started for the theatre. 

“Maybe.”

Jay raised an eyebrow, his lips curling into an amused smile, catching the (accidental) subtext, and Mike’s face caught fire. 

“I mean, maybe I’ll meet a hot lady at the bar. One thing, uh, leads to another. You know.”

“When was the last time that’s happened to you?” Jay snorted. There was a pause as Mike struggled to remember that far back while Jay waited expectantly, already smug.

“...shut up,” Mike grumbled, giving up. He hadn’t hit on any women since he’d fallen in love with Jay. Which was a long time ago. 

“If it’s any consolation, I think you’d be a hit at the gay bar.”

Mike furrowed his brows, again calling forth his unparalleled analytical skills to determine how Jay might come to that conclusion.

“Why?” He asked, after he couldn’t figure it out.

“Well, you’re a big, tough guy, and you look like you know...what you’re doing, too. They like those.”

“Thanks?” He said cautiously, surprised to hear that was Jay’s opinion of him (though it was definitely accurate, not to toot his own horn). Jay’s voice was light, and he was smiling, so it wasn’t a subtle insult or sarcasm. It seemed as though he’d meant it as a genuine compliment. Mike felt a little flattered. 

“Just don’t tell them about your interests,” he quipped, and Mike deflated just as quickly. He did have a point, though—nobody wanted to hear about Ghost Adventures on the first date. Unless, perhaps, they were Zak Bagans himself. But Mike wasn’t into Zak Bagans like that, so it still wouldn’t work out anyways.

“Oh, shit,” Jay muttered as they pulled into the theatre parking lot. It was packed, and they had to park in the back, half-walking, half-jogging past gaggles of excited teens and self-absorbed couples as they headed for the entry line. 

“Damn busy,” Mike whistled. “Even for a Friday night.”

“Sorry. I forgot Popular Disney Franchise Film 614 was coming out today,” Jay said sheepishly, pointing at the poster. 

“It feels like there’s a new one every week,” Mike complained as the line shuffled forward slowly.

“You planning on seeing that one?” Jay asked, stuffing his hands in the pockets of his hoodie, which Mike found adorable.

“...no? But I’ve said that about the last 79.”

“So have I,” Jay sighed. 

Come to think of it, they’d seen them all together, hadn’t they? 

After they finally got through the ticket line, Jay started to head for the concessions line—which seemed, somehow, even longer.

“I’m gonna get a drink, you can go in and sit down if you want.”

“You might miss the first few action-packed minutes, though,” Mike said dryly. Jay chuckled, shaking his head. 

“That  _ would  _ be a shame. Want me to get you anything?”

“Nah, I’m good. I’ll see you in there.”

With that, Mike walked away, wondering if maybe he should’ve stayed in line with Jay. Would that be weird? No, that’s something friends do. It would’ve been fine. Actually, should he go back? No, it was too late now, he’d already left, and he wouldn’t be able to explain going back just to wait with Jay. Mike took a deep breath, silently berating himself. He was second guessing everything, walking on eggshells. And it was  _ super annoying _ . He just wanted to have a nice time with his good friend (who he happened to be in love with, but that part was irrelevant). Why was he so worked up in the first place? They saw movies together on a regular basis. He was acting like he’s never done this before, but he‘s gone out with Jay tons of times—as completely platonic friends. This occasion was no different. 

As he climbed the stairs to their seats, Mike noticed they were way at the top, in the back corner.

It could be a coincidence. It probably was. He didn’t really peg Jay as the kind of guy to sneakily make out with someone in the back of a movie theatre. And if he ever did make out with anyone in the back of a movie theatre, rest assured it wouldn’t be his frumpy, rude coworker who needed a shave and was severely lacking in the abs department, Mike thought ruefully as he glanced down at his stomach. To distract himself from his cacophony of thoughts, he watched the trailers as they plodded by, making sure to take note of every interesting one—that is, none of them. 

“What did I miss?” Jay whispered as he sat down next to Mike.

“I don’t know. I haven’t been paying attention. Hasn’t started yet,” Mike offered, shrugging, and Jay snorted, sipping his drink. 

“What’d you buy?” Mike asked. 

“Coke.”

“No, to drink.”

“Ha, ha,” Jay rolled his eyes. “Want some?”

He held the drink in Mike’s direction, the straw tilted towards his mouth. Mike paused. This was normal. They were just two friends sharing a drink. That was totally fine and acceptable. Nothing out of the ordinary about it. 

He leaned forward and took a sip, barely tasting the fizzy, sugary liquid as it hit his tongue because he was so goddamn nervous, his hands clenched in his lap, sweating bullets. He pulled back after he’d had what seemed like a socially acceptable amount to drink, feeling dizzy. Sharing a soda with a buddy had never felt so stressful or homoerotic, and it was all his own fault for being weird about it. 

“Thanks.”

Jay nodded, none the wiser, setting the drink down in the cup holder as the logos for the film started to roll and Mike finished running through his emotional war zone. Eventually, he even managed to enjoy the very stupid, very loud film featuring Hot Woman, Evil Communists, and Snarky Badass Hero. To keep himself invested, he started a game with Jay—whenever there was a continuity error (there were many), whoever noticed it first slugged the other guy in the shoulder. Sometimes they ended up punching each other at the same time. Mike ended up with a light bruise on his right shoulder that he didn’t mind at all. At one point, Jay started laughing so hard at a stupid one-liner that a few other audience members shot him death glares—Mike flipped them all off. Jay shut up, to Mike’s dismay, but they shared amused glances with each other, two partners in crime, idiots with an inside joke. That was how Mike liked it, date or not. He just liked being with Jay.

God, he was in it bad, wasn’t he?

“So. Your thoughts?” Jay asked as they left the theatre.

“Horrible. Boring. Lots of CGI explosions that looked...almost decent, I’ll give it that. Would’ve fallen asleep halfway through if we hadn’t started that game.”

“Yeah, I’ve got a bruise on my arm now, by the way,” Jay complained lightly. “I didn’t expect much better, though.”

He laughed, and Mike smiled.

“Still wanna grab something to eat?” He asked, praying the answer was yes.

“Of course. Why do you think I didn’t buy any popcorn? Does the usual place work?”

“Sounds good.”

Now this was the definition of normal, a part of his routine. He went out to drink with Jay a  _ lot _ . They had nothing else to do, really, and Mike had nobody else he’d rather spend his time with. Drinking alone at a bar is pathetic. Drinking with a friend is much more socially acceptable.

For some reason, he still felt a little nervous anyways as he drove the two of them to his favorite bar (it was Jay’s second favorite, but his first choice was the gay bar and Mike didn’t think he would ever be emotionally ready to see Jay flirting with hot young twinks).

Mike pulled into the parking lot behind the bar, towards the back of the lot again. It was busy. 

“Hopefully they’ve still got two seats at the counter,” Jay said. 

“I’ll clear some up if I need to.”

Mike punched his open palm, and Jay rolled his eyes as they walked inside. Luckily, Mike didn’t need to beat anybody up—like fate, there were two free stools. They snatched them up quickly, Jay flagging down the bartender. 

“Good to see you guys again,” she chirped, already pouring them some beers.

“It’s been, what, two days?” Jay quipped.

“Maybe even three,” she laughed, sliding their drinks to them. “Want anything else?”

“Burger with fries,” Jay ordered.

“Yeah, same,” Mike followed. The bartender nodded, whisking away into the kitchen.

“Maybe we come here too often,” he muttered, embarrassed. Jay smiled.

“Better than drinking at home alone.”

“Who says I don’t do that, too?” Mike said dryly, raising an eyebrow. 

“Fair point. Cheers,” Jay held his glass to Mike’s, clinking them together. Then, in an incredibly sexy and impressive display, he brought his glass to his lips and chugged the whole thing in two seconds.

Mike was so in love. 

But he wasn’t going to let Jay beat him. Quickly, he threw back his own beer, slamming it back down onto the counter. Jay laughed, waving at the bartender for a refill.

“Make sure you’re sober enough to drive me home,” he warned lightly. 

“Of course,” Mike said, his voice sweetly insincere, because they both knew that he was never a responsible driver, even sober. If Baby Driver had been looking to cast a washed-up alcoholic with anger issues, he would’ve been a shoo-in. Come to think of it, maybe that’s why Jay preferred to drive himself. 

They drank and talked and ate their food, Jay stealing some of Mike’s fries and Mike doing nothing about it because he was feeling generous. Their conversation topics spanned a wide range, from whether or not God existed to what they would do if their dick could shoot lasers out of it (strangely enough, they spent more time on the latter topic than the former). It was stupid, ridiculous, and Mike wouldn’t have it any other way. 

“Y’know what? Let’s do it. Right now,” Jay demanded. He was on his eighth beer and it was starting to show, his face flushed and voice slurred.

“I am  _ not  _ helping you film a documentary about your neighbor’s raccoons,” Mike laughed lazily, his own speech feeling the effects of the alcohol, even though he’d fallen behind Jay in the race to get trashed. 

“But they’re so weird!” Jay threw his arms up for dramatic effect, accidentally knocking a guy passing by.

“Watch it, asshole!”

Mike turned in his seat to get a better look at the bastard who’d just insulted his dear Jay, only to see some buff-looking bear with a big beard standing behind him, glaring daggers. Kind of hot, though he looked like he could rip Mike’s limbs off in the span of three seconds. Maybe that’s what made him hot, actually.

Okay, Mike was trashed, too. 

“Shit, my bad. Sorry,” Jay held his hands up in surrender. The beefy stranger grunted. Mike noticed he was swaying, and tensed up. Large drunk men were never typically a good omen—and Mike would know, as he was often one of them. 

“You got a fuckin’ problem? You think you’re fuckin’ better than me?”

Jay tilted his head, giving the stranger a confused smile. Obviously, the guy had some other underlying psychological issues that he was venting here. Maybe an inferiority complex, or perhaps Jay resembled an ex. But the ‘why’ behind the aggressive male posturing usually wasn’t important—the thing to focus on here was that this looked like the textbook start to a bar fight.

“Wipe that fuckin’ smirk off your face!” The man grabbed Jay’s arm, and he froze in place, his grin tinged with terror now, glancing over at Mike because he knew this guy, hammered as he was and upset over nothing, could kick his ass.

“Let’s all just calm down—“ Mike started.

“Shut the ffffuck up! Or I’ll whoop your ass next.”

Alright, so that didn’t work. Scratching the back of his neck, Mike called upon his admirably well-developed social analysis skills to help him figure out the proper diplomatic way to deal with this guy. 

He gave up five seconds later, because he’d never been the sort to de-escalate things. Wasn’t his style. Besides, he was a little pissed this fucker was hurting Jay. So, with all the composure and grace of someone who’d done this many times before, Mike launched out of his chair and smashed his beer bottle over the guy’s head. The resulting crunch and explosion of glass made excitement flood through his body—it’d been a good month since his last bar fight, but he could never really kick the habit. The man careened backwards, letting go of Jay as he stumbled into a table. The couple that was sitting there scattered. Pussies.

“Hey!”

Mike turned in the direction of the new voice to receive a swift punch in the nose. His eyes watered as he staggered, nearly falling onto the glass shards on the floor.

“That was my fuckin’ buddy you just hit!”

So the idiot had idiot friends. Should’ve known. Mike swung back at the new target, but missed, getting slugged in the chest. He wheezed, knocking over plates as he leaned against the counter for balance. He’d lost track of Jay in the process of getting punched—must’ve gotten the hell outta Dodge. Mike couldn’t blame him. Hopefully he was safe. New guy whipped out a knife, and Mike shifted his attention to his own safety, his stomach sinking. This was going to be a problem.

Before he’d even started to swing, the man collapsed with a grunt, and Mike saw Jay standing behind him, holding a chair. He must’ve knocked him in the head with it. For good measure, Jay threw the chair down on him, then kicked him in the ass. 

Mike was so proud. 

Then he got beaned in the back of the head with a plate.

Whipping around, Mike grabbed another beer bottle and smashed the next victim with it. Another guy tackled him to the ground, and at this point he figured that the bear didn’t have this many friends. They’d started a brawl. People fighting people for no discernible reason, just a bunch of drunk idiots on a Friday night with nothing to lose.

He liked it that way. 

Mike grinned as he slammed the stranger’s face into the floor with his elbow, shoving himself to his feet. He noticed Jay was wielding a new chair, whooping as he swung at all contenders. The bear was back up somehow, blood running down his head, his buddy’s knife in his hand, murder in his eyes. He swung at Mike, who barely managed to avoid getting sliced in the nose. Mike kicked him in the junk, watching him keel over as he grabbed a plate. Burger and ceramic shards spilled over the man’s head as he went down again, and Mike threw another bottle at him for good measure, starting to make his way towards Jay—but they just kept coming. At one point, he had three on him at once. Then he knocked one out against the bar counter, kicked the second through the swinging men’s bathroom door, and body slammed the third against the floor. The bar was filled with the sounds of angry hollering and pained groans, testosterone reaching toxic levels, Mike’s blood rushing with adrenaline, his body hot and hands shaky from the feeling. 

“Mike!” Jay yelled, ganged up on by a group of bastards. He’d lost the chair, and was pinned against a table, iced tea spilling onto his clothes, pizza smearing against the back of his jacket. Those motherfuckers. Mike let out a wild shout, tossing plates in their general direction, a lucky shot knocking one cold. They broke off, finding a new target in Mike. Fine by him. He tossed the first one into a table, then snatched another by the collar and flipped him over onto the ground, hearing something snap—oops. He checked to make sure the guy was still breathing, before slugging another dude who’d made the mistake of following him. Jay, no longer stuck to the table, found a new chair and wreaked havoc among the rest of them.

“Cops!” Somebody shouted (how considerate), and before you could blink, everyone scattered, smashing through windows and launching out of the restaurant. Jay grabbed Mike by the arm, leading him out the door—the exit most normal people use. Outside, the cops were nabbing any drunks who couldn’t run fast enough. One laid eyes on them and started gunning it (no pun intended), so they sprinted away from the bar, flying through the streets on their nonathletic legs. The cop was yelling at them to stop, and Mike figured it must just be a required part of their job—or did that idiot think they would actually listen to him?

They bumped into a convenient crowd of people on the street; a bunch of nerds standing outside of a game shop for a card tournament. Mike tugged Jay into an alley hidden by the mass of dweebs, motioning for him to stay quiet. The cop shoved his way through the crowd, passing right by them. 

They stayed there in the alley, struggling to catch their breath. Jay was wheezing, leaning against the wall, his eyes glazed, his clothes dirty, a fierce smile on his face, illuminated only by shitty yellow street lamps and a faraway moon. Mike watched the soft shadows dance across Jay’s skin, a sharp contrast to the rough brick alley wall.

He really was beautiful. 

“Holy shit! Can you believe it? I just got in a bar fight!” he stage whispered, and Mike broke out into a laugh. 

“You did pretty good for your first one.”

Jay raised an eyebrow.

“What, this isn’t your first?” He asked, his voice full of mock hurt. 

“Of course not! Why d’ya think I’m banned from so many bars?”

Jay cackled, and Mike felt his face spread into a smile so wide it hurt. He could feel it—he was high on the adrenaline, the alcohol, the mere fact that Jay was by his side. 

“We should do that more often. That was—I needed that.”

“You needed to beat up strangers with a chair?” Mike asked. Jay laughed again. 

“It’s very cathartic. And you were badass in there. Seriously,” he grinned. 

“Comes from experience,” Mike shrugged it off, pretending he didn’t feel incredibly flattered by his friend’s drunken rambling.

“Mike the Badass,” Jay punched the air. “Has a nice ring to it.”

“I’m going to remind you that you said that tomorrow.”

Jay suddenly deflated. 

“Ugh, please don’t. Sober Jay would kill me.”

Mike laughed, because it was probably true. The only time he could ever get one over on Jay was either when he let him or when he was wasted—though he never let an opportunity slip by. 

“Sorry, though.” 

“Why?” Mike asked. “You didn’t start it.”

“I know, but it’s not how I imagined our first date. There’s pizza all over my clothes,” he complained, giving Mike a sheepish smile. Pizza or not, he still looked adorable—

Wait.

“What?”

“...what?”

“So this  _ was  _ a date?”

Jay paused, his expression morphing into one of good-natured confusion. 

“Did you think it wasn’t?”

Mike narrowed his eyes, trying to figure out how to explain himself. 

“In my defense...we do this a lot.”

That didn’t cut it. Jay shrugged, wagging his finger at Mike. 

“Yeah, but I said ‘go out with me’. I don’t usually say it like that.”

So he’d put it that way on purpose! Mike knew it! 

Well, no he didn’t. That was kind of the whole reason they had to clear it all up now.

But he’d had a sneaking suspicion, at least!

“Plus, I paid for your ticket. And I let you drive me there.”

“You  _ let  _ me?” Mike asked incredulously. 

“I would’ve offered to drive but I figured your ego wouldn’t be able to take it,” Jay quipped. Mike sighed. All the signs he’d agonized over pointed unquestionably to yes—now that Jay was there to do the pointing.

“I didn’t want to jump to conclusions or anything,” he grumbled, a little embarrassed at his behavior. If he’d known it was a date he would’ve pulled out all the stops, swept Jay off his feet so fast he’d think he was floating. Instead he struggled to share a drink with him, caught in a whirlwind of mixed signals (at least, they’d seem mixed at the time).

“Is that why you didn’t make a move on me in the theatre?”

Mike’s face turned bright red, and he coughed. He’d been right about the seats, too. 

“Wh—I—you wanted me to? On the first date?”

How promiscuous. Not that Mike was anyone to judge. Jay laughed.

“I sort of expected it, yeah. Given all the  _ experience  _ you’ve said you have.”

His voice was teasing, a sly grin on his face. It was clear he didn’t believe him now, and Mike didn’t blame him—he hadn’t exactly given a very good show. 

“Look, this one doesn’t count,” he started. Jay raised an eyebrow.

“It doesn’t?”

“No, because I didn’t know it was a date, so I didn’t act like it. So it doesn’t—this was just—next time. Next time, I’m gonna fuckin’ blow you away.”

And if he got lucky, maybe he could scratch the last word at the end of the night. 

“I’m looking forward to it,” Jay replied, grinning. “‘Cause next time, you’re paying.”

“Fine, fine,” Mike grumbled, before realizing he’d just managed to secure himself another date. A giddy smile spread onto his face. Yep, he’s still got it. Sort of. 

Remembering that they were in a dirty alleyway and not somewhere particularly romantic, Mike checked for the officer. Long gone. The crowd of nerds was gone, too, having moved inside the game shop. The coast looked clear. 

“The bar’s probably cleared out by now. We can start going back,” he suggested. With that, they slipped back out onto the empty street. As they started the walk back (no way in hell were they running. Mike’s legs felt like they were on fire, a fact that he could only faintly ignore through the power of love), Jay pulled his phone from his pocket, nearly dropping it as he checked the time. 

“Aw fuuuuck, it’s late. I got work tomorrow,” he whined. Mike rolled his eyes.

“So do I, dumbass. We work together,” he retorted. 

“Oh, right,” Jay laughed, his voice loud and warm and full of light, and Mike thought that he couldn’t believe how lucky he’d gotten. Because Jay could have anyone he wanted. Anyone in the world. He was  _ that  _ amazing. But, for whatever reason, at least tonight, he’d picked Mike. He could chalk it up to fate, or a coincidence—no, it didn’t matter why. What mattered is that they were together. And he hoped they always would be. Even when they were old and dying and unable to hear or control their own bowel movements. 

Yeah, he was  _ really  _ drunk. Getting all sappy and shit. Jay would probably bully him if he knew. Luckily, he seemed to be off in his own little world as they stumbled back to the bar, making it back to Mike’s car.

“You sober enough to get me home?” Jay asked. Mike tilted his head.

“I’ve driven drunker, and I’m still alive.”

“That’s reassuring,” Jay said sarcastically, but call it trust or poor judgement, he still got into the car. Miraculously, they managed to make it to Jay’s house without wrecking, and Mike walked him up to the door, trying to figure out how to leave smoothly.

“...I had a nice time tonight,” he managed, immediately regretting how awkward he sounded. 

“So did I. Even if you were too dumb to figure out that it was a date,” Jay quipped, winking. Mike shook his head, refusing to be shaken by his charisma and charm. 

“Just you wait. I’m gonna be so damn romantic you’re not gonna know what hit you,” he declared, already coming up with plans. Yeah. He was gonna show Jay how it was done. The whole nine yards, the whole shebang, the best damn date he was ever going to have—

Jay rolled his eyes, pulling him close and kissing him. Mike’s brain short-circuited as every fiber of his being became hyper aware of the feeling of Jay’s lips against his own, soft, magnetic, drawing him in like a fly to honey. 

Which one of them was supposed to be Casanova, again?

Jay pulled back, leaving Mike stunned. 

“Good luck with that,” he chirped, giving him a cocky grin like he knew exactly what he was doing to him, and Mike realized he was the luckiest guy on Earth to get to see him like this, because he was so fucking beautiful. 

**Author's Note:**

> this story is technically a patchwork of excerpts from a longer story i gave up on. I wanted them to go somewhere though, because I liked them and I'm too weak to go through with killing my darlings. just a lil story with hopefully good vibes.


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